Before he was a journalist, Tim Russert, who died suddenly Friday, was a pol. In both incarnations, he was a pro’s pro. Throughout, he was an awfully good guy.
Tim showed up one day, looked around, and took a few of us out for a beer. It took me about two minutes of conversation to realize that Tim was far savvier about politics — especially New York Democratic politics — than we at headquarters were, but he was polite and pretended to listen to our observations. In fact, as Tim told me later, he quickly concluded that most of us had no idea what we were doing — which was certainly the case.
Nonetheless, Moynihan was able to squeak by Bella Abzug in the primary — and, with Tim playing an increasingly important role in the campaign, he went on to win the general election easily.
Pat asked Tim to come to Washington as his press aide and counselor. Tim claimed to be worried that he wouldn’t be as good as the Ivy League hotshots Pat was assembling on his staff. Pat responded: “What they know, you can learn. What you know, they can’t learn.”
In fact, Tim already knew plenty, learned the rest in a flash, and quickly became Moynihan’s top aide. He went from there to Mario Cuomo’s staff, where Tim’s already elevated reputation among political insiders soared to new heights. When Gary Hart’s 1984 presidential campaign ran into difficulties, The New Yorker reported that Hart beseeched his aides, “Get me a Russert!”
That year, Hart lost to Walter Mondale, and politics lost Tim to journalism. He joined NBC, where his manifold talents led to another fast rise. He took over “Meet the Press” in 1991, and made it the most important interview show on TV.
Tim was now a big shot, and he rather enjoyed being a big shot. But he was just about the nicest big shot in Washington — decent and unpretentious, remarkably kind and genuinely thoughtful. In a city consumed by relationships and networking, Tim was known for his friendships and generosity. He became widely admired because his everyday behavior — with respect to staff, colleagues, acquaintances and strangers — was so routinely admirable.
Tim was serious about serious things, but he wasn’t solemn.
Early in Moynihan’s first term, the senator placed a call to an upstate county chairman. The guy answered the phone, and Pat started to talk to him about some issue of the day.
“Tim — I don’t have time for this,” the politician interrupted the startled senator. “What ... what ... this is Senator Moynihan!” — Pat tried to explain. “Oh, [expletive] Tim, I’ve had enough of this [expletive],” said the local, hanging up on the esteemed solon.
This is how Pat Moynihan discovered that his press aide was accustomed to entertaining both his own staff in D.C. and politicians and friends around the country with hilarious, impromptu performances featuring dead-on mimicry of Moynihan’s distinctive speaking style.
I last heard Russert do his Moynihan imitation about a year ago. We were having lunch, and for some reason got to discussing Pat’s almost-Russert-career-ending phone call. Tim launched into a boisterous imitation of his beloved mentor. I cracked up, heads turned, and a few people at neighboring tables even joined in the laughter.
Now Tim is gone, at age 58 — at a moment when he had everything to live for, professionally and personally. But thanks to his book, “Big Russ & Me,” he had lived to see his father, whom he revered, recognized as an embodiment of the hard work, patriotism and decency of the greatest generation. Tim was happy that he had encouraged others to recognize our debt to that generation, and to their own fathers. As Tim said to Jay Leno on “The Tonight Show,” “Jay, as I’ve gone around the country, people line up to get their book signed, they’ll say, ‘Make it out to Big Mike, Big Fred, Big Tom, Big Al’ ... There’s a lot of big guys out there. There really are.”
Tim also lived to enjoy the college graduation last month of his son, Luke, of whom he was very proud. To celebrate the occasion, Tim, his wife, Maureen, and Luke visited Rome. They attended the Wednesday audience with Pope Benedict XVI, then had lunch with Cardinal John Patrick Foley, who had baptized Luke. As the lunch ended, Tim asked the cardinal to bless them.
In high spirits, Tim headed back to Washington to prepare for his Sunday show. It was not to be. On Friday, Tim’s heart gave way. He died too young. But he lived more than a full life — a life overflowing with achievements, and friendships, and love, and joy.
